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On Monday night, a contemporary sex symbol celebrated the life and loves of a spiritual brother. Byron, said Rupert Everett in a Channel 4 film, In Search of Byron, was “the first modern sex symbol”, the “first international celebrity” and “one of the earliest practitioners of PR”. He was also a rather good poet, but the poetry, it soon became clear, was not Everett’s chief concern.
Poetry tends not to lend itself to glorious shots of your muscled torso, rising, like Botticelli’s Venus, from a bubble bath, or your lean buttocks, being pummelled in a hammam, or your fine biceps primed for swimming the Hellespont (which, rather humiliatingly, you don’t actually manage). Poetry tends not to lend itself to giggles with Turkish prostitutes about the size of Brazilian men’s willies or exchanges with ambassadors about the Turkish predilection for “sodomy and sherbert”.

See the full article from “Independent”